


The Meal

by pianobookworm



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes-centric, Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6902674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianobookworm/pseuds/pianobookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stranger shows up on narrator's doorstep, cold and hungry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meal

**Author's Note:**

> A short work inspired by the prompt: Food: What’s for breakfast? Dinner? Lunch? Or maybe you could write a poem about that time you met a friend at a cafe.  
> Obviously I just drew general inspiration from the prompt. This work is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine. I don't have a beta, so if you're interested, go ahead and let me know!

He eyed the plate eagerly, yet did not stir, other than his eyes flicking between me and the plate of food. It was obvious he did not trust me yet.

“See?” I explained carefully, dishing spaghetti onto my own plate. “It’s safe to eat.” Wrapping the noodles around my fork, I took a bite.

He still did not speak. He hadn’t said a word since I found him lying on my doorstep in the freezing cold, merely gesturing to indicate his needs when I brought him inside.

I poured him a glass of water and handed it to him. “Here, you need to eat and drink something so you don’t starve.”

His long, bedraggled brown hair hung loosely over his face, shading his eyes. Slowly he reached with his right hand and tentatively look the proffered glass, eyeing it warily. Raising it to his lips, he took a small sip, then set the glass back down.

“Do you want to take your glove off?” I asked, gesturing toward his left hand. “It would probably be easier to eat without it.”

Slowly, menacingly, he raised his eyes to meet mine. “No.”

The word was final. I nodded silently. This man was obviously nobody to be trifled with. He moved with a dangerous air, even though he was clearly ravenous and exhausted. Still, he had finally said something—maybe he would say more.

As his fingers wrapped around the fork, I smiled at him. “So, what’s your name?”

He dropped the fork and paused, looking confused—a completely different man than the one who had just intimidated me. Turning a bewildered glance my direction, he moved his hands and looked down at them. “I’m—I’m not sure.” His voice was raspy from disuse. “But I think…I think it’s Bucky.”


End file.
